The Speechless and the Rollick
by AkaiShinda
Summary: Starting from high-school, Berwald's life has never been easy but at least he could count on one person. The story is about his life including his best friend and soulmate, Timo, and the decisions they have to make, let them be bad, or good. Starting from High-school AU to Berwald's "adult" life.
1. Chapter 1

The Speechless and the Cloudless

Hi!

This is my first SuFin story… I apologize for my grammatical mistakes, English is my second language. I hope you'll like it

Prologue

Imagine an ordinary class somewhere in London, somewhere in a middle school. You get boys, girls, smartasses and dumbs, you think about the rich and the poor members, the small groups of friends with different people. There are nerds, the silent girls or boys who never talk to anyone else except their best friends, the computer-maniac boys chatting about a new game, the boys who are great in athletics or basketball and their girlfriends cheerleading the hell out of those alpha males. The chief of the class, who represents these people in the Student Council always sit in the front lines, and they think no one can ever say anything against their opinion. Well, that's for an average class.

In our case, we would get some extras. Let's think about a boy who is short, he has a normal, but still tiny shape, violet eyes, his smile is charming, kind and heart-warming just as his simple appearance. He brings joy to the conversations, he can sing pretty well and he is not bad with the girls either, thanks to his soft, silky blond hair. He likes mathematics, physics but he is fine with literature too because since he loves talking, he can understand the feelings of those romantic writers who decided to write hundreds of pages about emotions and fates. He is among the popular people in the class and the school as well; somehow, despite his appearance and his personality, no one bullies or hurts him. There is no logical reason to hurt Timo, and of course, he is always surrounded with his friends. He is from Finland, therefore he is considered to be "exotic". There is a kind of strangeness in him; he thinks totally differently about the weather, about life, about the things we do everyday; there is a thing he calls "sisu", and when he does something incredible; learning whole poems in two days, writing three A+ tests in one single day, succeeding in school competitions, while he spends almost every afternoon with his friends in town, he tends to answer this: "The susi made me do it." Also, he has a small metal hammer in his neck he calls "Mjölnir". Certainly, just from telling this paragraph about him, you can feel he is not a simple person.

There is another student, who can't be listed anywhere. He is tall, he has silver-framed glasses, short blond hair, and his eyes are like two blue gems, observing the smaller groups with his usual glare, which is cutting, shines like the crystal clear ocean's water. He is alone, however he can be considered handsome, his body is light built just as his father's was long time ago, when he had been in the same age. This particular boy doesn't have to wear expensive pieces of clothes to look noble, he doesn't even have those. He sits in the back of the classroom since he is tall, but the other reason is, that teachers don't have to worry about his behavior. This boy is silent, you could say he has no emotions to show since he hardly ever lets anything to be seen on his face. He likes reading, but he is not a book-nerd, he likes science but he is not keen on enough to join the clubs of the school. Usually he just draws, listens to music and tries to improve his English. His knowledge is deep, but because of the lack of speech, his pronunciation is rough, based on a deep, manly, mature voice of his.

Friends? He doesn't really have a lot, due to his silent nature, the members of the class hardly ever have chance to hear his voice, unless he is being called on lessons. He sits calmly like a statue; his right hand lies on the light-brown desk, while the left holds his jaw, resting on the elbow. You might think he is daydreaming or just reading a compulsory book in front of himself, and you might find yourself mistaken again. His desk is empty and clean, the pens are in their case, and the books are laying on themselves strictly on the right corner. He is not amused at the others' jokes, he is not interested in the stories which he hears from his left side, his eyes are busy with looking at one particular person, his friends surrounding him.

This person, you would say his crush, and he would just roll his eyes and say, the only person who is not afraid of him. They know each other from the beginning of middle school and this is it. They come from the same geographical area, himself from Sweden, the person from Finland. They talk on the way from school, they lend pens and papers to each other… this is it. They boy is much more smaller then him, just reaches his collarbone, but he has a bit longer hair, bright violet eyes and kind, friendly smile on his face, whenever they talk. Their interests could be the same if the smaller would spend more time studying, however the taller knew, his friend has great talent in mathematics. He himself found physics more understandable on the basic level, but geography and biology were his main fields. Years ago, when he was transported to London from his step-parents, Berwald Oxenstierna learned, how it is in real, to learn everything by himself and not for the sake of his substituted parents' pride. But for his own progress, Timo Vainamoinen was the complete opposite.

This is a story about the Speechless and the Cloudless.


	2. Chapter 2

1.

In Britain, the school system is rather different than the Finnish or the Swedish one. Though the education is mostly governed by the state and the church, the private schools have a way as well, to find their own paths. This is one of the reasons why Berwald got into this secondary school and he could recall the day when he got the letter back at Sweden... but to this point, he had a rough and hard ride from life.

_He was only twelve when his family went to Brazil for vacation. The weather was friendly to the Swedish family, however the air was humid and the sun had an incredible power, they could handle the heat during the road in the jungle, specially organized for tourists. This was the first time after five years of hard work for the family, to step out from the routine of their everyday life, and experience something entirely new... the bites of infected mosquitoes. Even though they got injections before entering the country, and they were in the hospital, Berwald has never seen his family again from the day they took their departure. His only luck was, that he had flu, and had to stay at home with his grandmother who took good care of him. Meanwhile his family was struggling for their lives in Brazil, he was listening to the tales of the lady about Britain and mythology, fairies, and mystical creatures of the Scandinavian mythology as well. He didn't know anything about his parents and his little sister. _

_One day, his grandmother picked up the phone. Berwald had a feeling before that something happened; Mom and Dad were never late from anywhere, and they didn't come on Monday, to pick him up. They didn't even call Grandma about the time they would arrive. It was a Wednesday, and Berwald stood in the doorway in light-green shirt, sandals and short trousers, Grandma's old pup in his hands. The old lady took her glasses off, wiped her eyes and for a couple of seconds didn't dare to look on the child... it wasn't necessary. Berwald's ocean blue eyes closed, and he let his head fall forward. They won't come, his mind told him. They won't. _

_It took an entire day for his grandmother to collect her thoughts and face the short haired, blond boy who already knew everything... and maybe this made everything so hard for both of them._

"_I'm terribly sorry, my dear." She said, with trembling voice, she had to hide her face with a tissue. "I'm sorry. It was mosquitoes... somehow. They couldn't... save them."_

_And Berwald didn't answer._

_Even if he wanted to, he couldn't live with his grandmother; the lady had few income, and she was old, so he was transported to Gävle, to the younger brother of his dad, Alex, and to his wife, Lena. They never wanted a child, but they didn't want to throw Berwald away, however as soon as the silent boy stood on their doorway, they changed their minds. Of course, he was a burden on their neck; they were afraid of him, appearing and disappearing in their house, they couldn't follow his mind, nor his action. Once, they travelled back to Uppsala to collect the things of the family, and Alex asked Berwald, what he would like to take from his Dad's property. It was a simple question, but like every time, the adult, grown up man had to wait long for the boy's answer. The psychologist told him, and to his wife to be patient... but for how long?_

"_Everything." Said the child._

"_You can't take everything."_

"_What if they come back?"_

_Alex froze. He swallowed, and looked down on the boy, who didn't look back at him, just stared into the nothing in front of himself. He always did that; acting like he was unfocused, but actually he was aware of everything happening around his little world._

"_They won't come back, Berwald. They are dead."_

_He didn't get any answer._

"_You saw them too on the funeral. They are dead. You have to move on."_

_You have to move on._

_So he tried. _

_The only thing he kept from his father's jewellery was a silver necklace with a small Christian cross on it. He never took it off, even if it looked ridiculously large on him, and it couldn't be seen under his clothes._

_Soon after this incident, Alex decided to send Berwald far away from home to boarding school, and Berwald didn't oppose the idea. He remained silent, communicated with Lena only, who understood the boy's voiceless language. She helped him to get ready for the school every day, made his sandwich and helped him to prepare his backpack, in winter she made hot tea and poured it into a thermos. But from now on, he couldn't expect anyone to do this for him. And this was, two years ago._

"You have to move on."

Berwald stared into the eyes of his teacher; the middle-aged woman with long, wavy brown hair, glasses, pale complexion, slim shape, nervous hands and legs ending in high-heels, which was obviously making her look ridiculous with her age. From the way she wore her shirt it could be told that she had an affair on-going with one member from the staff of the school, and she spent all of her savings on cosmetics and hairdressers to look younger than her real age. She didn't wear ring on any of her fingers, and looked at the young Swedish boy in such a detractive way, that Berwald raised his left eyebrow and blinked. That was already a reaction, and the teacher hummed, shook her head and pointed at the blackboard again.

"If you may, please move to this page and read the task out loud. Maybe you should concentrate on the real world, Mr. Oxenstierna, dreams are for children and you are not a toddler anymore."

He could tell tales about growing up to this woman. Long, long tales and stories of suffering alone, without anyone who could just sit down beside him and do simple things. Looking at the sky, the birds, the clouds... waiting silently for a sign from heaven, that his family was alright, or he still had a place in the world. He didn't like to chit-chat, he didn't like pointless monologues about someone's past, and he didn't expect anyone to listen to his own.

"Oxenstierna?"

He won't read it out. May it be childish or not, he didn't want to obey to this person, and he simply did not do what she asked from him. This wasn't the first time, though... and the class remained silent, if someone was about to shoot with a gun.. but it was only Berwald, and his stubborn head.

"Is your brain frozen, Oxenstierna, I asked you to read the task out for the class! The Swedish summer must be cold indeed if you lost the ability to read."

"I didn't go back."

The class turned back to stare at him almost in the same second, he could feel their gaze on his skin, in his mind.

"No wonder, what would they do with you? Watch silent movies?"

He stood up, and the woman stepped back, touching the blackboard with her hands. She was scared.

He didn't want that... he scared a teacher. He... scared a teacher. There is no chance that someone would have the bravery to talk to him after an incident like this.. he ruined everything on the first day, in second grade. He didn't move for a couple of seconds, then as he realized there is no good way out of this, he decided to collect his books and the notes, threw them into his bag and simply left without a word. As the white door closed behind him, he pushed his back to the wall right next to it, sank to the floor and shook his head, knitting his fingers in his hair with a long sigh. So what? Why did he expect anyone to befriend him? That was lost in the very beginning because he didn't like to talk, that's it, and people did. They loved to hear their own voices.

Berwald looked around on the corridor and decided to walk to the left, anyways he was new in the building, so he should explore the roof or the basement, it didn't matter anyway, so he straightened up and started walking down, beside the line of the blind students. The whole building was silent, he could hear voices from the classrooms only, explanations of teachers, sometimes voices of other students, sometimes movies. From the third floor, he heard music, Beethoven's 6th symphony. In the minute when he put his hand on the handrail, he heard footsteps from behind, and before he could turn around, he heard the person slow down, panting but still with the urge of interrupting his thoughts... the boy's voice was light and young, and not only that, but the way he spoke, and the language he used froze the mind of the silent criminal.

"Vad! Vart ska du?"

He spoke Swedish. He asked him, where he was going. Berwald's eyes widened in realization of the whole situation, so he turned around and tilted his head left as he examined the boy. He was shorter than him, a lot.. maybe he could reach his shoulders in height, he had slim shape but strength in his body, light blond hair which was a bit wavy, it could be seen as it hit his small shoulders. Berwald hummed at the familiar appearance of a person from the North, and he almost answered him, telling to go away, when he looked into the guest's eyes. Violet. Was that even possible?

"Jag är Timo Väinämöinen och jag talar lite svenska."

Berwald hummed, almost like saying thank you to the boy, when he continued.

"Can I go with you?"

Seems like, that's all the Finnish boy could say in Swedish: Hey, where are you going, and 'I am Timo Väinämöinen, and I speak a little Swedish.'.

"You know... it's not good to be alone."

Berwald didn't answer, just nodded and turned to the stairs again to walk up, when the Finnish boy touched his arm and all of a sudden, turned him around, to face him; the taller blond gasped in surprise as he looked into those energetic, cheerful eyes. "I asked you a question."

"Yes." Berwald murmured, and the boy released him. They continued their way up, remaining silent until they reached the fourth floor, then Timo ran forward and tried to open every door, but they were all closed, so they sat down at the wall, beside each other. Berwald shook his head as he realized; his jeans will get dirty and he will have to do the laundry later, but for that he should find the laundry room of the dormitory and ask for permission to use, or pay...

"I hate when it's that hot. I come from Oulu, in Finland, and I live close to the Arctic circle, you know? In the summer, it's only fifteen degrees, maybe twenty but that's really hot and started recently with the global warming." He said it all in Swedish, and Berwald, without even realizing it, let out a long, relaxed sigh and tilted his head back to the wall with the simple thoughts of, someone who wants to hear his own voice again, and, finally someone whom he could communicate a bit more... but he was Finnish. Who heard about Finnish people who would like to befriend Swedish? Maybe from the South or Western parts of the country, but from the North? Berwald knew a couple of jokes about Swedish people, jokes, invented by Finnish. The easiest, and most illustrating one was, when a Finnish person asked him:

"_Do you know how a Swedish labyrinth looks like?" And he drew two lines beside each other, like a road._

And now, a Finnish boy wants to talk with him? How to answer? In Swedish, or in Finnish, maybe in English?

"From what town do you come from, in Sweden?"

Which is he asking? He was born in Sävja, under Uppsala, then he lived in Uppsala and Gävla as well, so again, he had no idea what to answer, but the boy beside him... Timo... didn't mind it. He was sitting beside him, looked at him with his big, curious eyes and was examining him, and this was totally new for Berwald.

"What are you doing?" He asked the boy, and as he turned his head towards him, Timo shrugged, but in his eyes Berwald saw a slight fear and intimidation. "I don't want to hurt you."

"I... I know, but... you look angry."

"That's just my face."

"A-... ah so... this is your natural face?"

Berwald hummed, sighed and turned his head forward again, to pull his knees up and put his jaw on them, entwining his arms around himself.

"I think you will be in trouble. Mrs. Taylor will definitely report you."

"Let it be."

"You... don't even care about it?" Timo looked up on him but he couldn't make eye contact, since Berwald shrugged and kept his gaze in the nothing which laid in front of him.

"No."

"Well, maybe you should. Look, she can be really nice, and she is a fair teacher, and you shouldn't piss her off on your first day. A—anyways, I couldn't go to you in the morning, I apologize for that. I couldn't introduce myself to you."

"'s okay." Berwald closed his eyes again as he accommodated himself to the person sitting next to him, which practically meant, he repeated the things what the nice, and kind woman told him last year... to be patient with the strangers who would like to be friends with him, and try to answer their questions in a not-so-intimidating way. He should try to smile, or simply communicate with words... "thank you."

"No, I don't mind being here. It's quiet, nice and peaceful, isn't it."

Berwald nodded, and slowly turned his head towards the Finnish boy, who was rocking himself back and forth, as if he sat in a chair. It was a quite amusing thing. "Why did you come?"

Timo shrugged and tilted his head right, towards Berwald, and yawned. "Why not?"

"You are skipping a lesson right now."

"Nah, I beat everyone in maths in the class."

The Swedish boy hummed as he felt something in his chest, close to his heart; an unfamiliar, still warm, almost exciting feeling of contentment. He didn't mind Timo beside himself.

"I like maths too."

"No, you're lying to befriend me? I don't know maybe two people in the whole school who love mathematics."

"I like it." Berwald repeated again, and the Finnish looked at him, curiosity and questioning in his eyes.

"Derivation?"

"Got it."

"Logarithm?"

"Hm."

"Then you're gonna be bored too. These people can't understand the quadratic equation. You'll have to ask Mrs. Taylor to give you extra exercises, like me."

Maybe. Berwald didn't want to be different from the other students in the class, but now, with Timo on his side it didn't seem that horrible to be better in something, especially in mathematics, which was his field, practically.

"But I'm awful in literature and grammar." Timo sighed and slowly shook his head, as if he wouldn't agree with the fact, that he must study these subjects. "And history."

"Why?"

"I don't know, I'm not interested in old stories and those dates and datas and all unnecessary things I'll never use in my life, once I get a job. Also, for literature, if I'm interested in something, I'll read it myself, they wouldn't need to make it compulsory for me."

Berwald frowned as he realized; this little thing had been said so many times, that he could hear in Timo's voice, he got used to saying these sentences and he doesn't think anyone could prove him wrong, so people just agreed with him, or let him have his moment. However, sitting beside a person who was not absolutely full of himself, just had a rigid opinion about arts, was not unbearable. In fact, he had some ideas about the conversation in his head, so he cleared his throat to sign, he would like to talk. Timo looked at him, this time he wasn't intimidated at all; luckily.

"I think, from the past you can only learn, and how would you know who to read, if no one introduces you the artist?"

"I'm on tumblr." Shrugged the younger boy. "Do you know what that is?"

"I do, but listen. If you think about history, they show examples of options about our future."

The blond, smaller boy frowned and shook his head. "I don't understand."

"Think about the Roman Empire, the Nazi Germany and Soviet Russia. They were almost the same; conquering, forcing their own culture on other nations, with fascist leaders. Knowing their actions in the past is almost like... being able to predict the future, step by step. Here is America, they do exactly the same, but they learnt from the mistakes of the previous empires, so now everyone is content and alright with their monopoly."

Timo remained silent for a while, and Berwald was looking at him with piercing, ocean-blue eyes that examined the boy's face once again. He had clear, pale skin which didn't have the adolescent stage yet with the red spots all over, however he was frowning, it didn't show hardly on his expression, and his eyes had nice, almost almond-shaped eyes, but this, maybe because he was concentrating on the things Berwald just told him. When he looked up, his eyes widened as he realized the gaze of the Swedish, and once again, he got scared.

"S—Sorry, but... you look so angry..."

"I'm not angry at all. I'm just watching you."

At that, he could see complete terror in the smaller one's eyes. "D—Do you?!"

"Yes, do you have contact lenses?"

Hearing this on Berwald's calm, deep voice distracted the Finnish, and he swallowed before nodding. "Yes I do. Originally my eyes are blue as well, but... where I come from, almost everyone has blue eyes."

The taller nodded at that. Nordic genetics.

"Back to the topic; I agree with the fascist leaders of the Soviet Russia and Germany, but Roman Empire and now you say America? I wouldn't say America is fascist."

"Do you know what fascism is?" Turned his head towards the small one, but before he could continue, the horn of the school called his name, and ordered him to visit the headquarters; at that, Timo sighed.

"I told you not to piss Mrs. Taylor off." Then he stood up and helped Berwald as well, and helped him to get the dust off himself. For a moment or two, they looked into each other's eyes, telling contentment, satisfaction and something entirely new, that Berwald didn't experience in his life before...

. . .

In the office of the principal, Berwald sat down quietly in the huge, black leather armchair and didn't look on the huge, mahogany table in front of him. The woman behind the piece of furniture hummed, put some books away on the shelf and shook her head as he laid her wise, patient and understanding eyes on the boy. She knew everything, there was no doubt in that, and Berwald was sure that she knew about his past as well. He could almost smell the pity in her appearance.

"To start with, I'm not mad at you at all, my child." Her voice sounded similar to Berwald's grandmother... he didn't see her in three years. "Please, calm down for a second, and we'll talk this over together. Would like some tea?"

"_Would you like some chocolate cookies, darling?"_

Berwald didn't answer, just stared out of his mind, sometimes blinking; sometimes he let out a sigh which didn't tell anything about his mood. His face became blank like a white wall with two ocean-blue windows on it, although no one was able to see through those. No one, ever since...

"Mr. Oxenstierna, today your behaviour caused a little bit of trouble during Mrs. Taylor's lesson. You interrupted the flow of the lesson, and distracted your fellow classmates from focusing as well. Mrs. Taylor told me, that you refused to obey her. Please, would you explain me your reason for that? I assure you, there won't be any problem if you tell it to me, I would like to help you."

"_I don't need your pity."_

Berwald remained silent, just stared in front of him, the waves of the mahogany tree in the table, as the dark, scarlet painting on the plain slab flow across the whole object. It was something beautiful and artistic, created by the nature, and made perfect by hands of men.

"Mr. Oxenstierna, can you tell me, why didn't you read out the task for the others?"

At least the boy hummed, and then, simply shrugged and tilted his head left, almost like saying, because I didn't want to. He knew this all wasn't leading anywhere, and whatever he does, Alex will get an email, he will call him up and order him to behave like a normal child.

"Please, listen to me now. Look in my eyes."

Berwald sighed and slowly raised his eyes to see the arms of the woman resting on the table, beside her keyboard. "Higher, please. Look in my eyes."

For the split of the second, he did, then suddenly looked away, even turned his head away to the floor. He didn't see the expression of the director, but she sighed, sorrow and understanding in her voice. "Mr. Oxenstierna, I would like to ask something from you. You can trust me, I won't tell it to anyone, because I'm here to help you. I know it's not easy to start in a different country over again, and you have new teachers as well, but listen to me. You are not alone here. We are here, the staff and me, to make your life easier in the future. Please try to cooperate with us, which means that we try to teach you, and you obey to the tasks, try to find friends for yourself, and if you're not comfortable with something, please tell us. Now... did someone hurt you? Have you been bullied?"

They all ask the same. They all think, blaming the outside world will solve everything.

"Did someone hurt you physically? You can tell me, or you can write it down later, and simply send it to my office, dear. I would like to help you. Do you get on well with your roommate in your dormitory?"

The boy nodded. "Good. Do you have someone in the dormitory who you like to hang around with?"

Berwald opened his eyes, looking straight in the middle-aged woman's eyes, to tell him with this the simple answer.. "No."

"Please, consider having a bit more of communication with other people. You'll have a hard time here if you won't talk to your classmates."

What if he didn't want to? Was that too hard to digest?

"Oxenstierna, later we'll have you work in smaller groups, and if no one will know you, they won't help you in anything, or worse; they will ask us to sort them into other groups because they won't want to be with you. Do you want this?"

He can make homework alone, and presentations too, but... yes... it would be nice to have someone to read the things out... he's never been proud of his English pronunciation.

"Do you have someone who you like? Maybe you talked with someone already, didn't you..?"

Berwald hummed at the consideration of this Finnish boy. He seemed to be alright beside him... and if the principal didn't ask him to come here, they would be talking right now... he seemed to be friendly and tolerant as well... didn't rush him to answer everything at the very second.

"'did."

The principal smiled at him, and hummed in content. "Good. I'm glad to hear this. Would you mind, telling me his or her name?"

"Timo."

"Oh, Väinämöinen... " She chuckled and leaned back in her chair, as if she would have expected this answer. "That boy is adorable, and honestly I would be surprised if he wouldn't try to talk to you. You are from the same region of the world, and as far as I know, he can speak a bit of your language as well."

Berwald nodded at this.

"He lives in the same dormitory as you, just two floors above. Did you know this?"

He didn't, but at this, the boy's eyes opened up and looked at the principal again; she smiled back at him, then tilted her head right. "I'm glad to hear this. I hope you two will get on well."

. . .

Approximately twenty minutes later, as Berwald walked out of the building and looked up once again on the window of the principal's office, he sighed. Whatever's going to happen this year, he didn't mind having Timo on his side and somehow, feeling this warmness in his heart whenever he thought about the small boy... something new, unknown as about to approach him.


	3. Chapter 3

A couple of weeks had to pass after Berwald's little talk, and his meeting with Timo. The school year started in a blur, everyone trying to fit in, and avoid making enemies. It wasn't easy for anyone, concerning the fact, that having a couple of newbies in the class drew the attention of the seniors, of the ones who had failed the previous year, and now they had to waste their time among the younger folks. Still, Berwald remained silent and this became his shield against everything... but his new little friend, the Finnish boy, who had incredible violet eyes, wasn't this lucky.

Being popular isn't everything, they have told him this before, and Timo didn't want to be popular that much. He just wanted to have company beside himself, but after a month, he found himself in a crowd of people, wanting to get to know him, his culture, his land, his way of living before he moved to London... but they never asked him about his hobbies, or what movies did he prefer. The British girls liked his hair, his pale and fresh complexion, the way he tried to explain maths and physics to them in his way of English, sometimes saying figures of speeches, which occurred in his mother-tongue, translated to English. They laughed.

On lessons, when finally he had some silent minutes to think (especially on literature lessons), he often found himself looking back over his shoulders to spot Berwald. The Swedish boy sat in the same posture like before, writing, sometimes looking up on the blackboard and the teacher. His piercing, ocean-blue eyes were looking for information to note in his book, but then, from time to time, he turned his head on the left, and looked out on the window. He was watching the sky, and Timo didn't know, what was so interesting in the clouds. Of course he had to pay attention as well, so he didn't have much time to investigate Berwald's curious behaviour. On chemistry lessons, Berwald did the tasks alone, because no one wanted to be his companion, still he succeeded in the projects, and Timo was fascinated by that. He didn't know much about the silent boy...

Their next conversation took place in front of the chemistry laboratory, five minutes before the lesson. Timo knew that the rest of the class was gazing at them curiously, but he couldn't hold himself back anymore. He approached the Swedish guy, who was standing beside the door, waiting for the teacher in his usual silence, watching the corridor in front of him, without direction. As his attention was lead on Timo, he blinked, and made a tiny nod with his jaw, as if he welcomed his friend.

'Hey.' Timo smiled, tapping the wall with his toes through his black, leather shoes, then, still a bit embarrassed, looked up on the tall student. 'How are you today?'

Berwald blinked again, looked down to see what Timo was doing, then straightened up again, to check the corridor. He was waiting for the teacher to start the lesson, and more than that, he didn't exactly know what to say. He was fine... if he was sick, he wouldn't be in school, right? He wasn't exactly tired, but bored a little bit, he wanted to ask Timo if he would like to watch a movie with him, or maybe just walk around the dormitory to find a place where they can buy instant, caffeine-free coffee powder... in the end, he just cleared his throat.

'Do you have sore throat? I have a good medicine for that.' Smiled the boy, and soon he felt a bit confused, because Berwald slowly shook his head, and said:

'I'm alright.' Then caressed his uniform to make it seem neat. The colour dark-blue still fits him.

'I'm... glad to hear this.' Timo said under his nose, quietly, as if someone might hear what he mumbled, and Berwald didn't like that. He didn't want his friend to feel ashamed because of him.

'You can go.'

Timo looked up at him, and Berwald could see hurt, and surprise in his eyes. He didn't know the reason why he has been told that, and couldn't imagine an answer. The surrounding people's murmur started to get louder, the Swedish could hear their whispers about him, scaring Timo, and hurting him... but in fact, he wanted to save him from those shallow people. He didn't care if they would start bullying him after that, they would get bored soon anyways...

'Don't get in trouble.' He added with confident calmness.

'What trouble?' Hissed the Finnish boy, stepping closer to him, holding his books in his arms, in his eyes, Berwald could see a sudden strength he hasn't experienced before. In that second, he was speechless. Timo wasn't weak, he was sure in this, but bullying in Britain isn't exactly the same as in Finland... but again, to collect his thoughts and create a short, still sufficient answer needed time...

He didn't have the chance to say it out loud. The teacher appeared on the corridor, and the students had to form their pairs for the laboratory; and of course (much against Berwald's will, and even if he was scared by the events surrounding him), Timo stepped beside him and applied to be his partner for the next project. The class, secretly but still openly watching them, unconsciously organized a circle in the tables, to see everything what the new pair would accomplish during the lesson. Berwald tried to remain silent, and help Timo during the chain of the tasks, but being used to working alone and for himself, it wasn't so easy.

Accidentally he bumped into the small boy, at least two times, and even if he tried to apologize, he could only mumble a quiet 'sorry', or just grunt, because Timo stepped or jumped aside in the next time. Soon, he got accustomed to Berwald's tall figure. The minutes passed by in silence, and the tall, blond student lifted his eyes to check his classmates' faces, and saw terrified, shocked, and from the girls' side, jealous or hating looks. Why did the small boy do that to him? Did he want to cause trouble for him consciously? In the whole class, everyone would be pleased or even happy to know Timo on their sides, because he was amazingly good in chemistry. To admit, Berwald wasn't entirely bad either.

'Why did you come here?' He asked suddenly, on his quiet, deep voice, which on the one hand, surprised the smaller boy, on the other hand, calmed him.

'It's not good to be alone.'

For a couple of seconds, everything went on as if nothing special has happened. Berwald took the test-tube from Timo's hand, and put it into the rack, when his memory found him. Sitting at the wall on the 4th floor with him, being all peaceful and content... wasn't it like the same as now...?

It wasn't... being watched by a dozen of people, getting checked by the teacher, and he could see in her examining eyes that she tried to deduct something from this strange pair...

Timo didn't want him to be alone, maybe it was only that, simply...

He cleared his throat, implicating that he would like to say something, but as Timo looked back at him, all curious and interested, Berwald felt his cheeks heat up. What is he supposed to say all of a sudden?

'Really. I heard you live two floors beneath me in the dorm.'

'Umh.'

'In which corridor?'

'2A.'

'Then, if you use the side-steps, you can come up to my floor easily. I live on 4A.'

Was he indicating that Berwald should visit him after lessons? And.. what are they going to do?

'If you understand history, could you explain me this German Unity?'

Explaining... Berwald swallowed at the thought of talking too much, or saying something which wouldn't fit the conversation enough. Actually, if he concentrates on the topic, he cannot fail in it... to be honest, he didn't understand, what Timo didn't get from the lessons' notes, and there were quite a lot of things on the internet as well...

'Well, if you are busy it's fine.'

'No.' He suddenly said, but this resembled some kind of a grunt, and Timo nearly jumped from shock.

'I—I mean if only it's not a big thing, and Mathias can also—'

'It's fine. Just tell me when.'

The small boy held back his breath for a couple of seconds before finally releasing the air from his lungs, and turned back to the desk, to write down some notes. The atmosphere started to tense around them, he felt anxious eyes on his back and his forehead but tried to neglect them, and pay his attention to Timo instead. The shorter boy nodded a couple of seconds later to look up on him again.

'If you could be there at six, it would be really nice.'

And Berwald nodded. He will be there, exactly at six.

. . .

The dormitory was a modern, tall building with balconies on each sides. It was a lovely place to stay at, because the heating had been renovated, and the walls were good enough, not to hear the couples' banging from the other side. Every room had two beds, two tables, a fridge, and a tiny bathroom-toilet section. Berwald kept his water boiler in his built-in cupboard above his bed, beside the books and his clothes. The shoes were under the bed and the table, beside the suitcase. The colours had a friendly, light-brown and green tone, making the space look clean and modern just by appearance. That's the place he lived his life for nearly six months.

He liked to sit on the bed and read, leaning on the wall, listening to music on his discman. Tonight, he could barely concentrate on the compulsory book he was about to read, because of the meeting with Timo. He collected his thoughts and wrote them down after arriving home, so maybe he could just give the paper to the boy, and done. He cannot explain things, he cannot even talk, he cannot form words when he has to. Yes, in fact, he was excited about this meeting, first time after long years of solitude.

The clock tip-toed it's way to six, and Berwald put on his jumper (dark-blue with yellow striped at the chest and the sides), to find his way up on the stairs. Timo said 4A, in the kitchen of the floor. Dear God, he was about to join someone in learning... Lena would be extremely proud at this development.

As he approached the floor and opened the door to enter, he heard laughter, voices from the kitchen where Timo was supposed to be. Berwald frowned and simply stepped in, holding his books at his left side. Well. There he was. Six o'clock.

Timo looked up from the oven, happiness and honest relief took over his face and his eyes, he laughed and greeted Berwald with his hands, and invited him to come in, and take a seat at the table. The Swedish boy blinked a couple of times and looked inside of the room, in which another tall blond stood nearby the windows, holding a violin at his shoulder, and a smaller blond, sitting at the table. It seemed, that the smaller was trying to read the same book Berwald did a couple of minutes ago.

His mind didn't catch up with the events surrounding him. By the time he realized what's happening, Timo took his hand and lead him to the table, he told him both the other guys' names and asked him whether he liked tea or milk? This was too fast. He thought...

"So we're not learning history."

Timo was standing at the oven again for some reason, now he tilted his head right and sighed.

"Well, I'm making food, and it takes a bit of time."

"He makes that Finnish thingy, that pikka-pekka-pokkara." Said the tall guy at the window, and pulled a couple of strings on the violin, before Timo yelled back.

"Shut up, idiot! It's piirakka."

"Fish?" Berwald asked, and Timo hummed.

"I'm glad you know what I talk about."

"Tell him I'm uneducated."

"In fact you are, he won't be surprised." The smaller blond, who sat on the other side of the table had a soft, still muscular voice and Berwald didn't think he saw this boy before, though he was reading the same book. It was quite strange. The things started to have a more clear aspect, when the tall, standing guy offered a hand to him and introduced himself as Mathias Køhler. His friend, (possible roommate) looked up from the letters and did the same, telling he is Lukas Bondevik, and it's nice to meet Berwald, since Timo has been talking about him.

"He did?"

"Yea, all the nasty stuff."

"Shut up, will you? You still can't pronounce the food I'm making."

"Pii…" Mathias held up his finger, but he just clicked with his tongue. "You're right."

"It's a kind of pie with, but it can be made with makkara as well."

"That's the sausage, right?"

"Kind of." Timo shrugged.

"I stay at the bacon."

"How typical."

"Get out, Timo."

Berwald hummed and opened the book just as if he tried to do something. Sitting there, yes he found this tall guy a bit entertaining, and he had a nice aura around himself, but… what was the point of being there? They were Timo's friends, after all…

"Berwald, Mathias is from Denmark, and Luke is from Nor—"

"My name is Lukas, not 'Luke', if you may…"

"..is from Norway. I thought you might get on well, I heard you can understand Danish if you speak Swedish."

Berwald nodded at that, and turned back in the chair to look at Timo normally; he didn't like turning his back on the boy, who grabbed him out from his cave after all… he tried to look at this as socialization, and it took a lot of efforts to stay peaceful.

"Have you been in Denmark, Berwald?"

"Not yet."

"I've been in Oslo…" Mumbled the Danish.

"That's in Norway, you idiot."

"I know, I'm just saying. Don't bite my head off, blondie."

Berwald looked at Lukas to check him, but the boy simply sighed and returned to the text, while Mathias took the bow and lifted it to the violin.

"Alright, listen to this guys. I'm practicing this for a week, tell me how it is."

He started playing right then, and Berwald felt his heart sink deep into his chest. This cheerful, loud and friendly guy held the instrument in his hands as if he was born like this, with closed eyes, an honest, content smile on his face. Berwald sighed and closed his own eyes too, listening to the calming piece of art in his mind, coming from Mathias' hands.

Timo quietly took out the cake pan from the over (of course with a huge glove on his hand), and took the small, circle-shaped cookies on a big plate, then he carried it to the table, and put it down silently beside Berwald. "Okay, let me see this chapter." He whispered, trying not to sound too loud. He liked listening to Mathias' music, and he appreciated it.

"This, and this one." Berwald turned the pages slowly, caring enough not to make sound of the paper; so he could show Timo the text and the maps in the book. "Here."

"Okay. I don't get this thing with Prussia over there. Why was it there, who are they?"

"Prussians? They are German-like people, I think. They had Otto von Bismarck, who was their military leader, he united a lot of territories in three wars."

"And I should memorize the dates, right?"

"Should." Nodded Berwald, and he felt a small, almost invisible smile sneak its way up on his cheek. It was strange, but heart-warming, having a person who plays beautifully on the violin, an other who is reading a good book, and Timo, who can cook delicious-looking piirakka with herring on it, and himself… well… being there.

. . .

"I said, take it!" Timo appeared actually nervous at that point; he had a warning frown on his forehead, his eyes were throwing thunders from the inside, forcing the plate in Berwald's hands, while the Swedish tried to make his way down the stairs. It was nearly eight o'clock, and he wanted to have a proper bath and…

"No. You have it."

"Ber, I swear I'm gonna push them through your key-hole if you—"

"His what?! Timo, you pervert bastard. I always knew… Night, Berwald, see ya tomorrow!" Mathias waved them goodbye for the night, following Lukas on the corridor, babbling nonsense about some band he started listening a couple of days ago.

The Finnish just rolled his eyes and sighed. This was his fifth try, to force his cookies on Berwald, who still stood like a statue, holding the books in his hand on the left side. Actually, his zipper was pulled down and his glasses were a bit down on his nose because of the reading, but this just made him more life-like than before. Timo cleared his voice.

"Please. I made them, to say thank you."

Berwald looked down on the hand-made cookies. Small, round pieces of food, like pie, just having fish and rice mixed on it, baked together. Finnish, traditional food, they liked it really much, and it was easy to make it… and Timo made these for him? "You didn't have to."

"But.. I wanted to."

He smiled, and when Timo noticed this, he started smiling too, but this was different. They both knew, this was something different.

The sun was making its last blinks on the horizon, and Berwald accepted the plate, nodding as thank you, and cleared his throat. "Good night."

"Good night." Timo smiled back at him, and turned around to leave towards his room. The taller teenager stood on the stairs for a while, looking at the cakes, then again, nodded. He heard Timo's steps through the corridor, then the sound of key, and the door closing. He made it back safe, then.

Berwald walked down… one… two…three turns… left… then the doors… one pair… two pair… three, four pairs… key. Opening the door, to the table, putting down the plate, and sitting down to eat.

Original, Finnish-hand-made piirakka was the best, he ever tasted in his life.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ..

Unimportant Author notes: I hope you like it. :3 I try to update more often, I really like this story. I hope you find it just as heart-warming as I do. Please, if you find something ungrammatical, or something that's not English-like, do tell me! I love your reviews, please tell me what you think about the story, the characters, the language, everything! :3


	4. Chapter 4

A couple of days had to pass till Berwald collected all his bravery and gave the plate back to Timo. The 'amount' of bravery we talk about can be compared to a primary schoolgirl's courage to approach her hero, and tell him slowly into his hear, hey, I might like you. In our case, the scene and the surrounding people were absolutely different. In Berwald's eyes, the classroom was similar to a busy nest of bees, which from time to time sit down and listen to the superior bees. Timo was a really popular person, and to go and talk to him wasn't that easy.

Berwald carried the plate in his bag to school, hoping to have an opportunity to have a couple of words with the Finnish and give back the object but... well, fate didn't really liked this idea. Whenever he wanted to stand up and walk to the group, in which Timo could be found, something always happened. Not just the bell, but new people arrived to the scene from different classes, from the science clubs, or from the basketball club... Timo was playing basketball. Maybe he should as well.

The application deadline was over, it ended in September and alone by himself Berwald knew that is was hopeless to go and ask the guys to let him in. Almost everyone was scared of him or called him a freak. Indeed, he was an odd one in the class... the school, the dormitory, in the street, in London, in the United Kingdom, in the world. Because, as he told it to himself, there is only one Berwald Oxenstierna, and this is how it had to be.

. . .

The next time he met Timo, the boy was very anxious about his essay in history. He didn't know what to write about; he wanted to write about his homeland, but in that particular era of the world, Finland had a tiny section in the books. Sweden ruled them, and protected their lands against the Russians, then Russia took over, and ruled Finland until 1906.

He was sitting in the kitchen with Lukas and tried to make up his mind without success. He was complaining about the strict rules of the subject and the stress his parents had put onto him, and Berwald was sad, because he didn't have any idea to help his friend.

In the end, he gave back the plate and left. Timo didn't pay much attention to him, being busy with his problems. He didn't know that Berwald had the same trouble with his studies but kept it in the solitude of his room; there he opened his laptop and surfed on the internet for an hour, until he found a great topic to write about. His stomach warned him about food around seven o'clock, so he stood up and walked into the kitchen of his floor...

Timo was there, leaning his back on the windowpane, his arms crossed and with a really angry expression on his face. Berwald stood in the door for a couple of seconds then simply blinked. Well, if he was mad at the world he won't be the stray dog to kick in.

'Why didn't you stay? I thought...'

'I had to write the essay too.' Berwald said simply.

'We could have written it together, you know!'

'I'm not done with it yet.'

'I'm not done with you either.'

Berwald hummed and simply turned to the oven to switch it on, then as if Timo wasn't even in the room he walked out from the kitchen towards his room. The Finnish shook his head in confusion and (as predicted) ran after him. 'Berwald!'

'Hm?' The tall blond opened the door and stepped to the fridge to take out one bag of frozen meat. He turned to face his classmate who shot a glance on the nylon bag, then hissed.

'I have food upstairs.'

'I have it here.'

Well, well. This wasn't going anywhere. One of them had to give in; it seemed Timo really wanted him to go up to his kitchen but Berwald wanted to stay here, finish his food and go back to work. He just took a break for his stomach nothing more and now Timo was following him back to the kitchen, babbling about his departure earlier.

'You didn't disturb anyone, I don't understand why you simply left without saying anything, you just appear and disappear and this is not okay, I would have liked to say bye, or anything! Lukas didn't understand it either, if you bring your laptop upstairs and stay with us we could help you too. Honestly, Berwald you are a bit creepy sometimes.'

He just hummed as an answer and Timo leaned against the table, still holding his arms crossed but at least he didn't have that resentful expression on his face. It didn't suit him at all.

'If you are done with your food, I won't leave until you come up to our kitchen with your laptop.'

'Hm.'

At least he won't be alone...

Berwald smiled in himself. So, starting now, the clock of Timo's patience started ticking, and the Swedish was extremely curious, how long will it last. He didn't rush with his dinner and the washing either, just slowly as his grandmother taught him to eat. Cherish and appreciate every swallow of meat because it is from the kindness of God, son. Of course. Timo's patience was a really short kindness of God, it lasted around five minutes.

'You are doing this on purpose, with your emotionless face you are laughing on me right now you evil creature, aren't you?'

'Hm?'

This was the point when Timo couldn't hold back anymore. He started laughing but with such joy that he bent forward and clapped his hands once, then covered his face and tried to calm himself to the point that he was able to speak again. He had tears in his eyes from the previous moments so Berwald offered him a tissue to wipe them.

'I'm sorry, really but... okay, I'm fine... if you finished, please come up to us, it'd be really good. I just... you're something, Berwald, for sure.'

With that, he left him in the kitchen and the Swedish could hear his footsteps until he reached the door in the end of the corridor. He was something? That meant something good.

. . .

Later that night Berwald moved upstairs indeed, carrying his laptop in his hands and just as Lena suggested it long ago, he took one of his favourite snacks with himself maybe the other kids liked it too. Since it was simple, salty and still crunchy, his new friends thanked him for giving them food as well. It was a nice gesture, and Berwald felt satisfied with himself.

The serious concentration on their homework lasted around an hour, and when the clock reached 11, Lukas shut down his machine and went to get coffee for all of them. Timo was still typing and messing with the MLA format of the document while Berwald was just surfing on Google Search, trying to find pictures as illustrations. Of course, he found a lot of paintings from the era, but those were a bit dark and he didn't like the way those generals and political leaders were depicted.

For a while silence had ruled the whole dormitory. The corridors were empty and the small kitchen on the fourth floor was isolated enough to keep the noises of the entrance out so only their calm breathing provided the sound of life in the nearby area. Berwald kept back his yawn and looked beside him to check Timo's progress.

The Finnish was almost lying on the table with his left arm on the desk, his head resting on his upper arm, while he was messing with the works-cited section in the end. His violet eyes were red from exhaustion and his blinks were also low and sleepy. Of course, Timo was smaller, therefore he got tired more easily. Without thinking much, Berwald murmured a small 'let me do it instead', and took the mouse from the blond's hand. Timo nodded and yawned before he sat up and looked at the calm face of the Swedish.

'You know, if you like being here, you can come up every day. Of course, if you like.'

'I won't do your works-cited sections. Just now.'

'I know, I'm saying this in general. Most of the time we are here.'

'Hm.'

From his peripheral sight he noticed a small smile on Timo's mouth and he sighed. This was something entirely new... he had never been invited anywhere before... 'Thank you.'

'Nääh...' Timo yawned again, and in this tiny word he resembled his Finnish pronunciation. Berwald liked this way of speaking, the Finnish sounds were somewhat unique and beautiful, that's why he insisted on learning that very very difficult language from his elementary school years. He was a fond of a lot of weird things. ' You know, this little group of us is like Northern Europe. We got Mathias from Denmark, Lukas from Norway, and you are from Sweden. That's cool, isn't it?'

'We miss Iceland, probably.' Berwald said with a small, almost invisible smile on his face that Timo couldn't see, fortunately.

'Yea, that sucks... anyway, I'm in the basketball team, do you wanna join?'

The boy's eyes lit up in enthusiasm, but that lasted only for a couple of seconds when he realized his status in the popularity-scale. 'Well, I would like to, but...'

'Cool, then meet you in the hall tomorrow at four, is it okay? Look, you are a bit scary in the first two minutes but you're a good guy. You'll fit in, don't worry.'

'How did you...' Berwald frowned and turned to face the Finnish but the boy just shrugged.

'I thought that was obvious. But again, since I checked and you have nothing to do in Wednesdays and Fridays, you'll come with me to play basketball. Mathias is there too, if this helps.'

Alright this sounds great, he thought, but dozens of excuses crossed his mind in the second. Why would he fit in? He is not a talkative, chatty person, he doesn't like to compete with anyone and he just wanted to hang around Timo and simply exist in a calm atmosphere...

'You okay?'

'Hm.'

'Great...' Timo yawned again, then sat up straight and saved the document as it was before he shut the laptop down. He had dark shadows beneath his eyes and Berwald could see on his slow, careworn movements that he was exhausted; the way he got up from the chair and collected his notes and the cables, lacking the usual energy which basically was the part of his charm. 'Thank you for your help, Berwald. I go to sleep now.'

'Hyvä yötä.'

Timo's eyes snapped open and he turned towards Berwald with a surprised and happy expression on his face. He smiled and thank God, this was the original Timo's smile.

'I didn't know you speak Finnish!'

'That's all I know.' The taller said, and this time he didn't care to hide his own cheerfulness. He didn't have to, the rollick simply chuckled and nodded at that. He patiently waited until Berwald collected his own properties and now they were standing at the top of the stairs again, which led down in the side of the building. That was the point where their ways have parted.

'Good enough. Though, it's hyvää, long ää in the end.'

That was something entirely Finnish about him Berwald thought. Correcting someone's Finnish knowledge who could speak only a little of their language, and he did that to encourage but most of the times hearing this from an average Finnish person...

'Then... good night.'

'No, I didn't mean to... it's just, long ää because of the partittiivi, simple grammar.'

'Thanks.'

He had to practice Finnish grammar from now... as well as communication...

Berwald had written a long mail to Lena that night. He wrote that he might join the basketball team with his new acquaintance Timo, who is a Finnish boy, and he is very good in maths. He is not in history, though. At the first glance one might think that Timo talks a lot and he is somewhat too sweet, but he has his ups and downs as well. He likes art, appreciates music but he can be sensitive as well. Over-sensitive. He added, that Timo invited him to the basketball team and also to study together on the fourth floor of the dormitory. Anyways, that evening he ate meat balls and they were good. He wanted to buy training shoes and one trouser to attend the game. They started that Wednesday, so if Lena could arrange, it would be really nice to have a couple of pounds on his bank account. He will go and communicate with people. He had to look good, after all.

And this was one of Berwald Oxenstierna's longest messages in his life.

A/N: I apologize... I got sick in the past weeks and I'm still recovering. I hope you like it, please tell me your opinions! :3


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